Tumbled Graves

by Brenda Chapman

  Her phone rang as she was finishing her lunch. She swallowed the last bite of the sandwich before answering. “Officer Stonechild. Can I help you?”

  “Kala? It’s Jacques’s father, Henri Rouleau. Sorry to bother you at work.”

  “No bother, Mr. Rouleau. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. Everything is just fine, but please call me Henri. Did Jacques tell you that I’m in Ottawa?”

  “No, he hasn’t. Are you having a vacation?”

  “No, I’m doing some research for my latest book.”

  She listened with a smile on her lips as he spoke about his work and the cruel spring weather that was at last turning a corner. He had even gone for a long walk that afternoon along the canal and spotted crocuses and daffodils in some of the gardens. He’d had an early lunch at the Café Ritz with a table looking out over the bike path and ribbon of water beyond. Finally he got to the reason for his call as Kala knew he would given time. She listened carefully to what he told her and promised to do what she could to help him. They signed off with his invitation to drop by for supper when he returned to Kingston. Kala sat for a moment afterwards and turned his request over in her mind. She knew it had been difficult for him to ask and she’d agreed without considering all of the implications.

  The noise of a tray and cutlery hitting the floor jarred her from her thoughts. An officer in uniform had dropped his full tray of food in front of the cash register and others had jumped up to help clear the mess. Kala picked up her own tray and walked it over to the counter, carefully stepping around the coffee and smashed plate of shepherd’s pie and salad that had exploded as if shot from a cannon. The cashier appeared from behind the counter with a broom and all seemed in hand so Kala didn’t offer to help clean. As it was, she’d have to hurry if she was going to finish compiling the list of adoption agencies in Montreal. She needed to allow enough time to cut across town to Dawn’s school to deal with whatever the teacher and social worker were going to throw at her. Everything else would have to go on the back burner for the time being.

  The two women sitting across from Kala were as she’d expected. The social worker, Tamara Jones, was just like some of the social workers she’d dealt with throughout her childhood. Young, earnest, and driven by the need to make a difference. When they’d first met, Tamara told Kala that she’d been on the job less than a year, straight out of university. Kala could see that the job, the burn out, the depressing reality, hadn’t ground her down … yet. She had no doubt that it might take another year or two, but the day would come when Tamara Jones woke up wondering what the hell she was doing wasting her life.

  The teacher, Mrs. Zelasko, was a foreshadow of what young Tamara Jones would morph into twenty years from now. Mrs. Zelasko’s cynical brown eyes let you know that she had seen it all and wasn’t about to suffer fools. She was plumply turned out in a long blue skirt, red shirt populated by dogs playing musical instruments, white tights, and solid-looking clogs — a school teacher uniform that would blend into comfortable motherliness for her students. The pre-adolescents wouldn’t feel that Mrs. Zelasko was attempting to compete with their budding self-awareness and narcissism. She’d hide her own needs and desires behind the shield of teaching and appear to them as bland as vanilla pudding.

  Mrs. Zelasko took the lead in the conversation as Kala knew she would.

  “Thank you for making time to meet with us today. I thought the three of us should discuss how Dawn is settling in. Have you anything to share with us at this point, Officer Stonechild?”

  “Dawn continues to meet with Dr. Lyman …”

  Tamara interrupted. “I have the doctor’s report here. She says that Dawn is quiet and introverted and not yet talking about her mom, Gil Valiquette, the robbery, or their arrests.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Kala said voice sharp. Why did everyone feel that talking about problems and feelings was the only indicator of emotional health? She added, “Dawn is a private person, which I respect.”

  Tamara’s limpid blue eyes glistened brighter. “We can’t get better unless we share what we are going through. Surely, you see that?”

  “I do, but I also think we have to give Dawn room to come to grips with some of what she experienced on her own. She knows we’re here for her. I really believe that she will share when she’s ready.”

  Tamara kept her gaze steady on Kala. “Dr. Lyman indicated that she wants you to go in for some sessions. Are you willing to do this?”

  “Of course.” She knew what would go on the report if she said anything different.

  Mrs. Zelasko pulled back control of the interview. “Dawn is also having difficulty fitting into the classroom. She doesn’t take part in anything if she can help it and hasn’t made any friendships with the other girls.” She paused and looked meaningfully at Kala.

  Kala stared back and prepared herself for the real reason they’d summoned her to this meeting. By the intrusive look in the two sets of eyes fixed on her like headlights, it wasn’t going to be good.

  Mrs. Zelasko’s voice took on an even more sombre tone. “It gives me no pleasure to tell you that Dawn stole another girl’s iPhone yesterday morning. The phone was found in Dawn’s bag after I became aware of the problem. One of the other students saw her take it from a desk and put it there.” Her mouth formed into a straight line of disapproval. Tamara’s mouth opened and shut twice before she pursed her lips together.

  “Are you sure it was Dawn?”

  “Without question. However, when confronted, she refused to deny or admit to the theft. This is most disturbing in and of itself. I work very hard to have my students own their mistakes, accept responsibility, and change their behaviour moving forward. Dawn has chosen to do none of these things.

  Kala had no idea how to respond. Filling the empty space, Tamara ignored Mrs. Zelasko’s frown and jumped in to change the subject.

  “How is Dawn settling in with you?”

  And this is the crux of the interview, Kala thought. How I respond is going to determine Dawn’s future with me. She felt a slow-burning anger spread through her gut like gasoline. Anger at the situation. Anger at the fixed hand that she and Dawn and Dawn’s mother, Lily, had been dealt long before any of them had been born. But anger wouldn’t help Dawn now. She forced herself to speak in a pleasant tone.

  “Dawn is doing very well at home. She’s opening up to me and is extremely happy. We both are. I have to say that I am having a great deal of difficulty believing that she would steal. It is completely out of character. I promise that I’ll speak with her and get to the bottom of what is going on. If she needs to apologize to the other student, I’ll do my best to make her see the importance. I’m going to phone Dr. Lyman when we leave here today and set up that appointment.”

  Tamara nodded and a delighted smile spread across her face. She even spread her hands and raised them into the air as if giving thanks to God before clasping them together. “Excellent. We were worried that Dawn hasn’t had a chance to develop a sense of right and wrong, what with the life she’s led with her mother and her boyfriend. Even her father is in prison for goodness sake. You need to instil this because you are such a good role model. I have to tell you, Officer Stonechild, that your profession and standing in the community are two factors that we considered when agreeing to place Dawn with you.”

  “And I take my guardianship seriously.”

  “Good then.” Mrs. Zelasko ended the conversation with these two words. She stood and smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt at the same time. “Dawn is waiting for you in the library. Please contact me once you’ve spoken with her and we can work on an action plan together. I’m sure the other students will accept her apology once they see real contrition.”

  Kala knew the system well enough to have learned the words she must say. “Thank you for this team approach to helping my niece.” She rose too a
nd shook both of their hands. “I will most certainly be in touch.”

  She was rewarded with quick smiles before both Mrs. Zelasko’s and Tamara’s expressions eased and they closed Dawn’s file in their minds for the moment. They could now resume their personal, after-school lives believing that they’d made progress helping a troubled child get on the path. Kala was not fooled by their easy acceptance of her promises. They’d be watching and judging her. One misstep and young Tamara Jones would swoop in and move Dawn to a new foster home with the uncapping of her pen. Twenty-three years old with the power to change lives. She was the child care system dressed up in a navy suit from Banana Republic.

  Kala smiled at them each in turn but the smiles stopped short of her eyes. A determination had replaced the anger. The system would do to her niece what it had done to her over her dead body. She bid them a good evening and headed into the hallway.

  Mrs. Zelasko had given directions to the library on the other side of the first floor. Kala set out and the familiar hallways took her back about ten years. The corridors were lined in green lockers and the air had that peculiar school smell of rotting fruit, gym socks, and floor wax. Only a few students lingered. Most had caught their buses home an hour before. A janitor was mopping the hallway in circular motions and she tiptoed across the wet stretch of tile to push open the library door.

  She found Dawn alone, sitting at a computer with her back to the door. Sunlight from the tall windows along the far wall brightened the rows of books arranged in parallel formation. The librarian was nowhere in sight. Kala silently crossed the carpeted floor until she was standing behind her niece. Dawn’s head was bowed and a book rested in her lap. When she finally looked up at Kala, she jumped slightly and grabbed at her heart. Almost instantly, the startled look gave way to relief. “Hey Kala.” She reached down and picked up her knapsack from the floor next to her chair and shoved the book she’d been reading into it. This time when she looked at Kala, her eyes gave nothing away. She stood and pushed the chair under the desk. “Can we go home now?”

  “We can in a minute. Just one thing before we leave.”

  Dawn slung the knapsack over one shoulder and straightened her back. “What?”

  “Put your bag on the chair.”

  Dawn hesitated. A look of defiance crossed her features but she did as she’d been asked. She flung the bag onto the desk and faced Kala again. Her shoulders slumped. She let her head drop until she was looking at the floor. “You believe them.”

  “No. I want to hear what you have to say.”

  “You say that now.”

  “I mean it. I want your side.”

  “I didn’t take her iPhone.”

  “Well then, I believe you didn’t take it.”

  Dawn looked up. “Just like that, you believe me?”

  Kala reached out with both arms and pulled Dawn toward her in a tight hug. They stood locked together as the seconds ticked by. They stood until Kala felt Dawn’s rigid body soften and relax into her own. Only then did Kala say, “You and I are in this together. Whatever has happened, whatever is coming, we are in this together. Do you understand me?”

  Dawn’s head bobbed up and down against her chest.

  “I will fight for you.” Kala lowered her face and kissed her on the forehead. “You are worth more to me than all the other kids in this school put together.” She let Dawn go and reached around her to pick up her knapsack. “Now let’s get out of here and go home to Taiku. You can walk him down by the water while I make us something good for supper. Then maybe you can tell me what’s going on.”

  Sammy Lockhart finished his rice pudding and pushed away his bowl. He’d told his mom that he hated rice pudding but she’d taken away his empty plate and dropped the bowl on the table anyway. She’d sprinkled the yucky pudding with brown sugar and he’d decided to have a taste. One taste led to another and he’d ended up licking the bowl until he could see his face shining from it.

  He climbed down from his chair. His mother was sitting at her desk in the living room working on her laptop. She’d been working on a story all day. He remembered what she’d said at breakfast.

  “I need to get this story finished by tonight to make the deadline. You’re going to have to entertain yourself today I’m afraid, buckaroo.”

  He’d done his best to keep out of her way. She hadn’t had much work lately and wouldn’t let him buy anything good at the store. That was because they didn’t have any extra money. He knew that because he heard her telling her sister how worried she was on the phone the night before when she thought he was sleeping. The little bees of worry had been humming in his stomach ever since.

  So he tried his best to be good. He’d built a fort out of couch cushions and a blanket she’d given him and hid inside with his Lego for most of the morning. After lunch, he watched two movies and then played with his toy cars in the front hallway. She’d stopped working long enough to make him a hotdog but had taken hers back to the computer.

  Sammy got up on the sofa and craned his head back to look up at the sky. It was still blue and he could see the sun high up. He turned and looked at his mom. She had an unlit cigarette in her mouth and was twirling her hair around and around with her fingers. She always did that when she was thinking.

  He jumped down and slipped past her. At the doorway to the kitchen he stopped and looked back. He thought about telling her that he was going outside to ride his bike, but she’d begun typing again. He shrugged. His black rubber boots were on the mat by the back door. He sat down and pulled them on and then unlocked the back door. He stepped outside and shut the door so that it didn’t slam.

  His bike was right where he’d left it next to the back shed. He picked up a stick and poked it in the holes under the steps for a while. He knew a raccoon was living under there. Or maybe it was an otter. He wasn’t sure, but he knew it was something big. He’d like to get it out and make it his pet. He lost interest after a while and looked over at his red tricycle. He was almost too big for the bike, but he still liked riding it up and down the driveway as fast as he could go. His mom said she was going to get him a two-wheeler as soon as she got some money ahead. Maybe he’d get it after she got paid for this job she was working on.

  It took him a few minutes to lug the bike across the lawn and around the house to the top of the driveway. One of the pedals hit his leg and made a scratch. He rubbed it for a second but then forgot about the sting when he got on his bike and started down the little hill, being careful not to scrape his mother’s car. She’d said the car had to last another winter at least even if the driver door didn’t lock anymore and rust had made little holes along the sides.

  He pedalled hard and liked the feel of the wind in his face. “Yippee!” he screamed and kept pedalling as hard as he could until he reached the trees on his right. That was when he had to brake so that he wouldn’t keep going onto the road. He slowed and drove his bike in a wide arc back toward the house. His feet started moving in slower and slower circles. The pedals slowed until the bike came to a stop. He stared across the driveway into the trees.

  A man was standing in the shadows watching him.

  Sammy remembered his friend Violet and the worry bees started buzzing louder in his tummy. He got his feet back on the pedals ready to pump his legs as hard as he could, to get back up the hill to his mommy. The man took a step toward him. He was smiling and called out his name.

  “Sammy, I want to talk to you.”

  Sammy hesitated. Only friends knew his name was Sammy. The man was saying something and he listened. He wasn’t sure if he should go over to the man like he asked. Sammy looked back toward the house. The front door had been flung open and his mother was standing on the front steps. She had one hand over her forehead and she was looking down the driveway.

  “Sammy, you get back here right now!” she called.

&nbs
p; “Coming, Ma!” he yelled back, relieved not to have to make a decision. He looked over to where the man was standing, but the space was empty. The man had disappeared back into the trees. Sammy squinted into the shadows but couldn’t see any sign of him.

  He slowly started to push his feet against the pedals to build up speed to make the hill and get back to where his mom stood, waiting with her hands on her hips. When he was closer, he could see the unhappy look on her face. Something told him not to mention the man standing in the trees. Her face was red enough already. By the time he reached her, his legs were tired and he was panting. She grabbed onto his arm and gave him a shake.

  “You never go outside without telling me again, do you hear me, young man? I was worried sick when I realized you weren’t in the house. Now get inside and into your pajamas. You are going straight to bed.”

  He didn’t think about the man again until his mom had tucked him into bed and gone downstairs to finish writing her story. Only then did he wonder about what the man had told him.

  Sammy closed his eyes and tried to see the man’s face. He’d been wearing a black ball cap and a black jacket and all Sammy could remember was his smile. A wisp of a memory tickled in his head. He’d seen the man somewhere before. But where?

  Maybe the man knew what happened to Violet and had come to take Sammy to see her. That might be how the man knew his name. He must be a friend. Sammy rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. Maybe the man in black would be back tomorrow. He might even take Sammy to find Violet because it was getting really boring waiting for her to come home.